


Hidden

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, References to Illness, hiding an illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Overeager eyes follow Gil's every step from his office to coffee and the same path back. Ask whether he needs anything, but before the words surface, he shakes his head and retreats. They’re busy detecting a murderer, and that takes precedence.For Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt Hiding an Illness.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Hidden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts).



In his coat pockets, loose change, keys, wallet. His sweater sleeve, a spare tissue. Beneath his sweater, a long-sleeved waffle weave shirt trapping warmth. Under his shirt, a t-shirt hugging his chest. Hiding a small incision covered with Steri-Strips. Matryoshka’s nesting to cocoon the secret.

It hurts - not the slit in his skin, but the knowledge of what he needs to tell Malcolm. Words he must find, but they’re covered in all the layers, buffered from the light of day. They’re testing him.

His ribs are still bruised, so his stiffer movements can be passed as slightly damaged. Overeager eyes follow his every step from his office to coffee and the same path back. Ask whether he needs anything, but before the words surface, he shakes his head and retreats. They’re busy detecting a murderer, and that takes precedence.

The eyes follow later into the day to a probable primary location, each kneel into the earth hardening his stance as his ribs protest. He’s too well to stay at home, yet not nimble enough to escape watch. He stops his pursuit of getting as close as he can to the evidence and waits for the team to update him.

Gil doesn’t offer to take Malcolm home. Disappears before he can get any more unasked questions of whether he’s okay. He ambles to his car, takes time to gingerly sink into the seat, draws a breath, and starts it.

Malcolm calls him later in the evening. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m exhausted, kid,” he admits, already surrounded with blankets in bed. A few layers of fleece wrap him up to what he hopes will be comfortable. It had just started to drop toward freezing temperatures at night, and his body hasn’t adjusted yet.

“Try to rest,” Malcolm shares, his voice tipping toward soothing.

“Giving my advice back to me?” Gil questions his word choice, playing with the seam on the sheet.

Malcolm chuckles. “You seem…” _not okay_ , “different.”

“Hmm.” Gil pauses, yet chooses not to address the statement. “Get some sleep,” Gil advises, dipping into fatherly, and hangs up.

There’s coffee waiting on his desk along with a croissant from a bakery down the block. A heat pack with a label promising it’ll help his ribs. A sticky note saying Malcolm will take care of lunch.

And it all curls under his skin, reaching for the truth coiled close to his chest. Opens each nested doll, continuing on when nothing’s discovered. Sits with him all day as he reviews stacks seeking leads.

So when it’s time to leave, he says, “Let’s go for a drive, kid,” and Malcolm follows along and slides into the seat beside him.

There’s a silence Malcolm doesn’t try to fill, instead looking out the window for any marked changes in the landscape. Passing signs for NY 25A and getting all the way through Queens, Malcolm comments, “Long Island?”

“Wanted to see the trees,” Gil shares, the bumps under his fingers on the steering wheel bringing him to a place of comfort. As long as he keeps driving, he can touch on the words he needs to say, hold them in his hands for just a few moments, and be on his way to the next destination.

The further they go, Northern Boulevard becomes less and less populated, and they’re left with nature for company. “So, I, uh, need to tell you something.”

Malcolm nods, remaining quiet. He knew something was up as soon as they had headed for Queens instead of Lower Manhattan, and the following silence had only shone a spotlight on the situation.

“When Johnson walloped me, they x-rayed my ribs,” Gil explains, the detail something he had failed to divulge previously. Chosen not to disclose was more accurate, but it was the lesser of the evils on his mind.

“A few cracks, right?” Malcolm confirms his suspicions from Gil’s rigid movements.

“Yeah.” Gil takes a deep breath, wincing at the movement. “But they saw something else.”

Gil pulls over, deciding the wavering moisture in his eyes might be a bad combination with driving. Leaves drift onto the windshield, covering their conversation from the street.

Unraveled, all the words spill out at once. “A spot of growth that the doctor says is pretty common. It’s probably nothing. In an abundance of caution, they ran some more tests to see if it might be something.”

“And?”

“I’m supposed to go find out next week.”

All the words fall out of his hands, and he can’t pick up the drive. He’s still, leaves enveloping the car, suffocating them inside.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Malcolm suggests, getting out and around the car to open the door for Gil.

Crunching under their feet, they walk down the dirt shoulder, vibrant colors waving from the trees. Smells of earth and leaves mingle and waft in the fresh breeze. They’re quiet for a while, Gil wrapping his emotions back up in the chill. “Your mom ever take you out here?” Gil asks, looking through the trees to where he knows the bay is on the other side.

“No.” Malcolm shakes his head. Changing leaves didn’t have the glamor she preferred. “It’s a nice time of year.”

Gil picks up a red leaf and rubs the skin back and forth between his fingers. “Jackie and I came out here a few times when we got the itch for a little escape.”

“You can take a day off, you know, right?” Malcolm hints, knowing he’s already been struggling with pain, and worry of unknown news can’t be lessening it. Maybe he could go explore one of the places that meant something to him. Maybe they could both go and float in the wind.

“Gonna go through my full playbook?” Gil deadpans, looking over to him.

“Nah. You’ll leave me out here.” Malcolm raises an eyebrow and smirks. He’d have no chance with the wolves. Or coyotes? Foxes? Whatever animal was found out there.

“As tempting as that is…” Gil smiles, their relationship vacillating between wanting to hug and strangle him.

“You said it yourself, right?” Malcolm collects the words and circles back to what started their drive. “It’s probably nothing.”

Gil gives a little chuckle, releasing the leaf from his fingers to skate away in the breeze. “I’m more worried for you than I am for me.” _Worse for the caretaker_ , Jackie had told him, _dealing with the before and aftermath_. And they both know how that ended the last time.

Malcolm pats Gil’s back, aware that’s always the case with him, and guilt reminds Malcolm hasn’t done enough to change that. “But what’s the first thing you tell me to do?”

“Call for backup,” Gil repeats firmly.

“See, you remember that better than I do,” Malcolm teases, and Gil’s hand goes to his neck.

“How about drinks at my place, whatever the news,” Gil suggests, “Tuesday.”

“Tuesday,” Malcolm agrees, and they stroll their way back to the car.

Gil sweeps off the leaves, and Malcolm chatters the ride home to his apartment.

 _He isn't Jackie_ , Malcolm's words patter, _he'll be fine_.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
